[Scene: A cozy café in Lyon, February 2nd — La Chandeleur. Claire and Julien are sitting at a window table sipping coffee. Outside, it’s drizzling lightly.]
Claire: (gazing dramatically out the window)
Ahhh, Julien… rain on La Chandeleur. You know what that means — 40 more days of rain! Better keep your umbrella handy until spring.
Julien: (grinning and stirring his coffee)
Claire, you’re really going with that old saying again? Come on, you know the weather doesn’t consult a calendar or a saint’s feast day.
Claire: (mock-offended)
Excuse me! My grandmother swore by this. Every year she’d check the sky on February 2nd and plan her garden accordingly. And you know what? Her tulips were always magnificent.
Julien:
That’s called survivorship bias, my dear. You remember the times she was right, but you forget the years she was wrong. Also, maybe her tulips were just… you know, well cared for?
Claire: (smirking)
Ah, Monsieur Scientist, always ready with the logic. But tell me — have you ever seen it sunny on La Chandeleur and then had a miserable, wet March?
Julien:
Of course I have! Last year, remember? Beautiful sunshine on La Chandeleur. And then March came along like some kind of moody novelist: storms, wind, hail — the works.
Claire: (waving a finger)
But that was one year. The tradition is about the overall pattern.
Julien: (leaning in playfully)
Okay, let’s test your theory. Did you check Météo-France this morning? They’re predicting sunshine tomorrow, showers the day after, and dry weather next week. No mention of 40 days of rain.
Claire:
Meteorologists are like fortune-tellers in lab coats. Besides, tradition has something science doesn’t — wisdom passed down through generations.
Julien: (chuckling)
You mean, wisdom like “if your nose itches, someone’s talking about you,” or “never open an umbrella indoors”? I’m pretty sure that’s less ‘wisdom’ and more ‘grandma-level mischief.’
Claire: (laughing)
Fine, fine! But don’t you think these old beliefs give life a bit of charm? I mean, when it rains on La Chandeleur, it’s like the universe whispering, “Patience, Claire — spring is coming, but not yet.”
Julien:
I’ll give you that — it’s poetic. But you know what I like better? Understanding why the weather changes. Jet streams, atmospheric pressure, El Niño. It’s like unlocking nature’s code.
Claire:
El Niño doesn’t make crêpes on February 2nd. La Chandeleur does. And besides, you can’t tell me you didn’t feel a little flicker of disappointment when you saw those rain clouds this morning.
Julien: (mock-sighing)
Okay, I admit — a tiny part of me hoped for sunshine. But that’s because I wanted to sit on a terrace, not because I fear the next 40 days!
Claire: (grinning)
So you see, even the rational Julien has a heart that listens to old sayings.
Julien:
Touché. But tell you what — how about we make a deal? You keep your superstitions, and I’ll keep my science. And if it rains for 40 days, I’ll buy you dinner. If not, you owe me a bottle of wine.
Claire: (clapping her hands with delight)
Deal! But when you’re soaked next month, don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Julien: (raising his coffee cup)
And when we’re having a sunny picnic in March, I’ll remind you that sometimes, the weather just does what it wants.
Claire: (laughing and clinking her cup to his)
To crêpes, rain, and stubborn friends!
Julien:
And to La Chandeleur — the one day we can argue about rain and eat dessert for dinner.
[They both laugh, the drizzle pattering against the window as they dig into their crêpes.]
Science Vs Superstition 
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